Scars
by Creamy Chessnut
Summary: When Hermione was seven years old, she gained her first scar. And it was a very significant part of her life. It changed her whole attitude. However, 11 years later, at the end of the war, her first scar is among many more, each one with its own tale.. R/Hr Oneshot


**Scars**

Summary:

When Hermione was seven years old, she gained her first ever scar. By the time she was 19, she had more scars than she could count.

* * *

_1st May 1987_

The day Hermione got her first scar, she changed her whole attitude. It had happened in a simply childish way, which had involved Hermione jumping exceptionally high on her parents bed, and falling off, hitting the side of her head on her Fathers bedside table. After several hours of screaming and crying, her head was stitched back up, and she was left feeling mortified and ashamed. That day she told herself that she would never, _never, _participate in anything dangerous, putting aside her fun attitude. After all, fun was dangerous.

However, 5 years later, at the age of twelve, Hermione realized that maybe, just maybe, being boring wasn't always the answer. Especially not when she discovered that a paper cut can be just as gruesome.

_3rd June 1992_

This was it. Hermione looked hopelessly at her second scar, a jagged stretch of skin on her leg. It was weird. And not a bad weird. It was... Interesting. She found, that for some reason, she wasn't exactly upset with it. She had got it trying to save the world from the wrath of You-Know-Who, and she felt slightly proud. Of course, Harry had done the most part, stopping Quirrel getting the stone, but she had helped! She had defeated Devillsnare, and solved a hard riddle set by Professor Snape. And obviously, that was a great help.

Her hand stroked her scar. Maybe scars weren't so bad.

_16th February 1993_

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ron asked worriedly, glancing towards her blood covered sleeve,wincing.

"I'm fine, seriously," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"You don't look it," he mumbled, blushing slightly red.

Hermione laughed, exposing her bloody arm. For such a small cut, it had produced a lot of blood.

"It's not bad, really. Doesn't even hurt."

This was partly true. It hurt a little, but no enough to warrant everyone, well, _Ron, _to fawn over her. Hmm, it was quite sweet though.

It had happened in potions. A glass vile had smashed, sending a shard of glass into her left forearm. It had hurt a bit, but she had managed to get the shard out quickly, therefore preventing a trip to the hospital wing. However, Ron had seen what had happened, and was now bothering her about it. He just wouldn't let it go.

"You should go to Madam Promfrey."

"I'm fine, besides, I've spent more than enough time there," she said, recounting her time as part cat.

"It will scar," Ron said warningly.

Hermione didn't listen to him, shrugging it off.

It turned out he was right.

_29th June 1994_

4. That was how many scars she had gained during her third year at Hogwarts. 4. One on the back of her hand, one on her foot, one on her shoulder, and another on her leg. It was becoming quite a collection, she thought, gazing at them.

The scar on her hand had been emitted by Croooshanks. Not that it was his fault. No. This was Ron's fault. He had come, lunging for her cat, screaming about Scabbers. And where had Crookshanks been? Oh yes, sitting quite comfortably on Hermione's lap. When Ron had lunged for him, Crookshanks did whatever normal cat would do, and pelted, however, accidentally scratching Hermione in the process.

The one on her foot was due the Whomping Willow. When her and Harry had been running to try and save Ron, it had gone to strike her in the chest. On instinct, she jumped, and it just caught her foot. It wasn't until after they had saved Sirius that she noticed it.

The shoulder scar had been inflicted when she collapsed at the lake. Blushing, Hermione shook her head. She was still ashamed of not being able to help Harry any further in that matter, and though she didn't admit it, considered herself weak. She had spoke to Professor Lupin about it, catching him before he left, and he said that many grown witches and wizards still have trouble dealing with Dementors, and that she should have nothing to feel ashamed about. It didn't help much.

The final scar, another on her leg, didn't have much of a story. It was embarrassing. When she wasn't talking to Harry or Ron, Hermione spent most of her time with Hagrid. One day, after many lessons, Hermione had wandered down to Hagrid, dragging along her bag of many books, when she had tripped. Her books went flying out of her bag, and her leg was oozing blood due to a fairly large rock. Hagrid had seen her and came out to help, but never, ever, would she tell anyone the truth of how she got that scar. Not anyone.

_24th June 1995_

Cedric Diggory was dead. Hermione took a deep breath, tears forming in her eyes. Cedric Diggory was dead, and her best friend had seen it. Had seen his murder.

Harry was still asleep. He was fidgeting quite a lot in his sleep. Everyone was sitting around him. Ron was gazing at the floor, every now and then his eyes shifting up towards her. Mrs Weasley was muttering something to Bill that Hermione couldn't hear, not that she wanted too.

Hermione looked back towards Harry. Madam Promfrey had been itching to take a look at the cut on his arm, and the one on his leg, but Professor Dumbledore had told her to wait.

"Trying to look after my patient.. won't let me," she had muttered angrily after he had told her this. She was still muttering about it then.

Hmm, Hermione thought, glancing towards his hidden leg. Looks like he will be getting more scars.

Hermione hadn't gained any scars that year. Well, she had got quite a nasty rash after the pus Rita Skeeter had sent her. but Madam Promfrey had assured her that they wouldn't scar, and she had been quite right. To be fair, she hadn't been in any direct danger, except of course at the Quidditch world cup.

Harry made a noise, and everyone glanced towards him. Maybe she didn't gain any visible scars this year, but she did gain emotional ones. She winced as she remembered the way Ron had looked at her as she danced with Viktor Krum, glaring over at her. He had never looked at her with so much hatred, not even when he thought her cat had murdered his rat.

Yes, she thought. Emotional scars are just as painful.

_19th June 1996_

She had been right. Sirius hadn't been at the Ministry. Yesterday they had gone and fought for nothing. It was all part of Voldemort's plan. And now, Sirius was dead.

She didn't blame Harry. She didn't even blame Kreacher. She didn't blame anyone. But now, she had a new horrid scar, worse than any before. It was purple, sort of like purple veins. It was on the top of her body, just over her right breast. Madam Promfrey had apologized and apologized, but apparently, they was nothing she could do to rid of it.

Ron had got several scars. She glanced towards him and found him asleep. his mouth open slightly. She smiled. He had been attacked by the brains, and now had criss-cross shaped scars over his arms.

She blushed as she thought of his arms. Big and muscular...

"No, Hermione, no!" She muttered to herself. "You cannot like your best friend, no!"

She didn't know when it happened or why it happened, but she fancied Ron. It was weird. Of all boys, it was Ron. The one who argued with her, the one who laughed at her. Well, maybe not as much as he had before... He had matured slightly this year. Maybe it was because of his role as prefect?

No, that couldn't be it. He was still shy sometimes to use his power, or maybe sometimes over-using it. No, it wasn't his role as prefect.

Then she realized something.

When Fred and George had left, he had started acting more... hmm what was the word.. She couldn't put her finger on it... errm..

"Hermione? Are you okay? Do you want Madam Promfrey or something?" Ron's voiced shocked her back to reality.

"W-what?" She said, shaking her head, and looking at him.

"You were daydreaming or something.. like staring into space.." He shrugged.

"Ohh, just thinking about things.." she muttered, going slightly red. Damn you Ron Weasley!

"Right, so do you need anything?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"No.." she said quietly. Leave me alone!

"Okay.." he laid back down and was silent for a moment. Then. "Looks like I've got some scars to add to Harry's collection, eh?"

Hermione laughed, and winced. It hurt to laugh.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"Okay, well sleep then," he said, offering a smile.

"Well, night," she whispered, laying down.

"Night."

_1st March 1997_

He'll be fine.

He has to be fine.

He will be fine..

Will he be fine?

What if he's not fine?

Hermione took a deep breath. Ron wasn't going to die. Harry had saved him. Ron was fine.

She looked at him, before tearing her eyes away.

He is fine.

He was unconscious, but fine.

Really.

But really?

Was he fine?

When she had found out, she had blanched. It was the worst feeling she had ever felt. _Ron was poisoned, Hermione, Harry said to come and find you. _

She had felt like a blade had cut open her chest, and let her bleed to death.

But he was fine.

So her cut was mending.

Into a scar.

A different kind of scar.

But a scar all the same.

_4th April 1998_

Hermione took a jagged breath.

Where was she?

She didn't know this room.

Was this a dream?

She tried to sit up, but failed, her limbs on fire.

She made a noise, a slight moan, and suddenly, the door opened.

Ron.

Ron was there.

There was a gash on his cheek.

Was this real?

"Hermione!" He said loudly, but he sounded fair away.. so distant.

"Ron.." she whispered.

"I'm here Hermione, I'm here."

The door opened again, and Fleur stepped in.

Wait. Fleur?

"W-where are we?" She managed.

"Shell Cottage.. Bill and Fleur's place."

He sat down beside her.

"Are you in pain?" He asked.

She nodded.

"Anywhere specific, or all over?"

Hermione concentrated on her pain. She hurt everywhere. Everywhere. But her arm.. her arm really hurt.

"M-my left arm," she muttered.

Fleur moved towards her arm, and Hermione winced as she took it.

"Is eet very painful? What happened to eet?"

"I don't know w-what she did.." Hermione whispered.

Fleur gently lifted up her sleeve, and Hermione saw it was stained with blood. She had the urge to puke.

Her forearm was exposed.

The word _Mudblood _was carved into her skin, blood oozing from every letter. Mudblood.

Ron let out a yelp.

"Ooh, Mademoiselle! C'est macabre!"

Hermione felt hot tears prickling in the corner of her eyes. No Hermione, don't you dare cry, she told herself. Don't give her that satisfaction!

"W-will it scar?" Ron whispered, and Hermione heard his voice break. His face was pale, tears forming in his eyes.

"I do not know, eet.." but what Fleur was going to say, Hermione didn't know, because after another glance at the word carved onto her arm, she fainted.

_6th May 1998_

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8..

Hermione was trying to count all the cuts she had gained from the battle, but it was impossible. She knew she had many on her back, but she couldn't see them. Her body was going to be covered in scars.

Sighing, she got out of the shower, wrapping her towel around herself.

They were back at the Burrow.

They had stayed a few days at Hogwarts, and she had helped mainly in the Hospital Wing, helping Madam Promfrey with all of her patients. She had also showed the matron her arm, the third person to see it, and had been given some soothing cream to help her. It was working slightly.

She had been sleeping in her old dorm, in her old bed. Ginny had taken refuge in there, as had Mrs Weasley and Fleur. Ron and Harry had been back up in their old dorm.

She had been having nightmares. Dark shadows of Bellatrix, and often Ginny would wake her up to inform her she had been thrashing around again. And screaming. Hermione would tell her she forgot what her dreams were about, but she hadn't. She didn't want to tell anyone what had happened, not yet. She hadn't even showed Harry her scar yet.

She knew she needed Ron.

And he knew that too.

Hermione got dressed, pulling on a pair of Ginny's pyjamas, and walked out the bathroom.

Ron was sitting against the wall, and he made her jump.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"No, it's fine," she said, giving him a small smile.

"Mum said you had been in there a while and asked me to check on you.. when I heard you singing I knew you were okay." He smiled a little, the first proper smile in a few days.

Hermione blushed. "I didn't realize I was so loud," she muttered embarrassed.

Ron gave a slight chuckle. "It's fine, a lot of people sing in the shower."

"I guess," she whispered, shifting her weight.

He sighed, before getting up.

"Dinner's ready; we were waiting for you."

"Oh, you should have said!"

"Naa, it's fine."

She smiled, still a little red, and moved in to hug him. He hugged her back, holding her tightly against his chest.

"I love you," she said it without realizing it, and she froze.

"I love you too," he whispered, pulling away.

Then he kissed her.

_18th October 2018_

Hermione Weasley was reading the Prophet, her eyes scanning the front page, when she heard a sudden screech coming from the garden. Grabbing her wand, she raced outside to see what had happened.

Rose was laying on the floor, crying, her bike laying on its side beside her.

"Rose?" Hermione said worriedly, running towards her 10 year old Daughter.

Hermione fell onto her knees, pulling Rose up.

"Rose, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, wiping her eyes.

"I f-fell," Rose sobbed, and her eyes flickered down towards her knee, where blood was running down her leg; she cried harder.

"Shhh," Hermione said soothingly, "It's going to be okay. Lets get you inside."

Slowly and carefully, Hermione helped Rose into the kitchen, supporting her. When they got inside, Hermione sat Rose on one of the chairs, and knelt down, examining the wound.

"Hmm, nothing Dittany won't fix, but you may have a scar."

"A s-scar?" Rose stuttered out. "I-I don't want a s-scar!"

Hermione laughed gently, picking herself up. "It won't be a very big scar, I promise," she said, as she looked through the medical cupboard. "It won't be a lightening scar or anything, don't worry."

Rose laughed a bit, but tears were still crawling down her face.

Hermione walked back over to her, the Dittany in her hand.

"It might sting," she told her, and Rose nodded.

Hermione put a few small drops onto the cut, Rose wincing, and fresh skin formed over, leaving, as Hermione guessed, a tiny white scar.

"See, that's not too bad!" Hermione said getting to her feet.

Rose looked at the scar, and her hand shot forward and touched it.

"W-why isn't it red? Or purple?"

Hermione took a deep breath, knowing why her daughter was afraid of getting scars. It had been 22 years since the battle at the department of Mysteries, and 20 years since the end of the war, but her scars hadn't changed. The purple vein scar on her chest was still as purple as the day it had been put there, and the word 'Mudblood' was as blood red as it always had been. It had taken a good few years for Hermione to get comfortable with the word carved into her flesh, but she realized later on that she didn't care anymore. It was just a word.

"Because it's a normal scar, silly," Hermione said comfortingly. "It wasn't put there by a spell or a cursed dagger for that matter, but by the solid ground. Most scars are like this. I have a good collection, I can tell you."

Rose nodded, her eyes glancing towards her Mother's arm, and then away again.

"It's okay, everything's okay."

Rose took a breath. "H-how did you get over it?"

"I didn't. I won't say that sometimes I don't feel pain when I look at it, because that is a lie. I learned to live with it. With the help of your Father, I learned that scars don't show signs of weakness, but signs of healing and bravery. Scars show that you survived."

Rose nodded, and got up. "I'm going to go a-and try again," she said referring to her bike.

"Okay," Hermione replied.

A few minutes after Rose had gone back out, Hermione glanced towards the living room, and saw Ron leaning against a wall. Upon seeing that she had noticed him, he walked in, and wrapped his arms tight around her.

"You're so amazing," he whispered to her.

She smiled. "You're not so bad yourself."


End file.
